


One Word Varric and I Shave You.  Everywhere.

by PheadreofWynter



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angry Kissing, Bar Fight, F/M, Fenris Has Issues, First Kiss, Wicked Grace night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 11:39:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10490109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PheadreofWynter/pseuds/PheadreofWynter
Summary: Wicked Grace night after Act of Mercy gets a little out of hand.Bioware owns the sandbox, I just make castles here.





	

“They weren’t blood mages Fenris,” Hawke said with thin-lipped patience. Her eyes flashed with temper as she flung her cards down. Varric sighed and sat back, well aware his game was over for the night. Would it really be so much to ask to have everyone get along just once a week?

“They weren’t exactly innocents either Hawke,” he ground out, dropping his own cards.

“Look,” her voice was heated and tight with fury.

Anders cut her off, “We all know you would just kill every mage who didn’t go timidly live in the Circle the way the Templars want us too. Hell, you’d like to see Hawke and I there wouldn’t you?” Varric knew this was a tactical mistake. The possessed mage should have kept his big mouth shut and let her handle Fenris. Maker knew she was the only one that could. He shot glance at Isabella, who was already edging backwards from the table with a firm grip on Daisy’s arm to keep her close. Somehow in the moment his attention was distracted things had gone downhill. Fenris and Anders were yelling at each other, leaning forward over the table like they would leap over it to claw each other to death. Hawke appeared to be twitching in agitation next to them as they refused to listen to what she was trying to tell them. Varric decided this was the perfect time to intervene. He grabbed the two nearest mostly full mugs of ale and dowsed the two men in front of him with an expert fling.

The storm turned in his general direction. Ander’s skin took on the crackled tinge that meant the demon was close to the surface. The elf burst into light all over his skin like a torch made of lightening. Varric felt he was going to have just enough time to thoroughly regret his actions before he died. Then, like the peel of a silver church bell, Hawke giggled. The effect was everything Varric had hoped it would be. Her giggles triggered sniggers and muffled laughter from the other two women in the room. Anders, who as the red mist was torn away by his embarrassment, noted how ridiculous the dripping elf looked and realized he must look the same, sat down hard, offering his opponent, and everyone else, a sheepish grin. It was a gesture lost on Fenris though, who had whipped his head toward Hawke when her laughter started, and even as the blush heated his skin was only glowing brighter with more anger and threat as the seconds ticked by. Then in a motion that spattered them all with droplets of ale he turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

“Fenris! Fenris no, don’t…” but he was through the door and halfway down the staircase towards the main floor. “Makers breath,” Hawke swore and with decidedly less grace than the elf, got up and ran after him.

“Hawke! Hawke where are you…..” Anders trailed off and his face turned glum. “Why does she always rush off to go soothe that mad dog every time he gets in a snit?” There was a moment of silence, and Varric was too kind to break it. 

“Oh but she can’t let him go off all upset like that,” Merrill said, “Hawke’s much too kind for that, why he’ll never sleep in that state and it’s getting late.”

The pirate however, gleefully offered, “Do you really not know Mage Boy? I’ve got some great little books in my room that can fill you in. Would have thought someone who worked the Pearl would have had a little more sense though.”

“That’s not true!” he shot back and got to his feet. “I am not going to stand here and listen to that filth. Hawke couldn’t be interested in that madman. Good night.” And Anders quit the room as well.

Merrill watched him go, and then turned to Isabella, “Why wouldn’t Hawke be interested in Fenris? He had a very interesting life. It’s just difficult to get him to talk about it.”

“Well Kitten,” Isabella assumed her educational tone.

“It’s dirty isn’t it?” Merrill was naive but she had picked up the general drift of most of Isabella’s observations. She didn’t always understand but she was starting to pick up the edges.

“If you will excuse me ladies, I’m going to get some fresh air after all this.” Varric was loathe to go and leave Daisy to the tender mercies of the Pirate Queen’s enlightenment, but there was little choice at the moment. The damn elf had been too jumpy today, too hot under the collar, and the fact that Hawke never seemed to acknowledge the threat the man posed weighed on Varric as he hurried through the tap room. Fenris would get the drop on her because she believed he wouldn’t hurt her, and Varric knew that belief was a false one.

 

**********************************************

Hawke burst through the doors of the Hanged Man seconds behind Fenris, but he was already out of sight. She stood for a second, and then plunged into an alley that would empty out farther down the main route to Hightown. It was dangerous, choosing the alley, there was at least a 50/50 chance of ambush somewhere along its length by one or more cutthroats but Fenris was ahead of her and she knew from experience she couldn’t catch him on flat ground. When he decided to that man could move. She reached the end of the alley without mishap, and made a mental note to drop something in the chantry offerings later. Just as she stepped out into the relative safety of the main drag she saw him coming around the corner of a few feet back towards the bar. He pulled up at the sight of her. They stood regarding each other in the semi dark, and while his lyrium markings no longer glowed she could almost see the temper still rolling off him.

“Get out of the way Hawke,” he started walking again. She didn’t move. He sidestepped and was almost past before she could react. Without even a pause she launched herself forward and grabbed his arm, hauling on him. He used her weight and momentum against her, without thought, without effort. Before she could blink he had slammed her against the wall of the nearest building, one forearm pressed tight to her throat and his other hand glowing with the foxfire light that meant phase shift as the fingertips protruded into her chest. 

She winced, but it was a faint reaction. As soon as her eyes stopped spinning from impact she let them drift to his. His face was close, and fury radiated out from him like the light from his markings. His narrowed eyes widened as he realized who he had hold of. The strength ran out of his arms and they fell to his sides, but he didn’t step back. As fast as his surprise had gripped him it faded, and the anger returned.

“Why?” He demanded, his posture still caging her against the wall despite his arms releasing her. “Why are you not afraid? Even with my hand…” and his throat tightened, cutting off whatever was next.

She tilted her head to the side and considered him, then said, “I have great faith in your internal sense of right and wrong. It’s not that you wouldn’t kill me, it’s that if you did I am sure it would be because I deserved it. I didn’t just now so I knew I was perfectly safe.” The tone, polite and helpfully informative with no trace of humor made the words that much more effective in their delivery. For a moment there was a great chasm of vibrating silence as a cascading series of emotions swamped Fenris’s face. All were equally indecipherable to Hawke, who began to feel a trace of discomfort in how close he was and how his expressions couldn’t seem to settle on a single proper set. Then, to her utter shock, his arms came up around her as his mouth came down hard on hers.

Her mind went blank, but her body, thank the Maker, had more sense. She couldn’t wrap her arms around him in return, because of his crushing grip, but she slanted her head to fit their mouths together more effectively and kissed him back for all she was worth. His skin burned like he was fevered where it pressed against her, and his mouth tasted sweet with a touch of the ale that had splashed all over him. She moaned softly and he tightened his arms again, till it was almost painful, but she said nothing and prayed it wouldn’t stop. At which point, of course, Varric arrived.

“Hey! What’re you doing to…” and his footsteps and voice both trailed away to nothing.

Fenris jerked backwards, like a man held up by strings. His face was as pale as someone with caramel for skin can be as his head moved to take in Varric, then back to the semi-crushed Hawke with kiss reddened lips pushed up against the wall of a Lowtown shack. “Witch!” he hissed at her, his fury a black tide that by all rights should have killed Varric and her both at this distance. Then he spun on his heel and was gone.

Hawke was in such a state of shock she didn’t even realize what exactly had happened until it was all over. She watched him go and then pivoted in increments towards Varric. He, who had also been watching the living glow stick of a man stomp off into the night turned to her just as slowly, mouth literally agape. “What in Andraste’s Flaming…”

“I don’t know. I really, really honestly don’t know,” she cut him off. “But if you breathe a word, I mean, one word, to anyone I swear to the Maker I will shave you bald. Everywhere.”

He looked affronted, and probably would have argued with her until he noticed she was shaking. Ever the practical dwarf he shelved the argument for later and said, “Fine. But Maker’s Balls I need a drink after seeing that and you are going to come back and buy it.”

She laughed. It was shaky but it was genuine, and he felt a little relieved. He turned them both around towards the Hanged Man and started a line of prattle about Isabella’s cheating. Once she was calm he would think about this, but not until. This was going to be a story worth telling once he had pried the details out of her.


End file.
